by Jenny Colgan
Fran looked at me. ‘It’s not pointless. You’re only going to have to play the first bit to the boys. So what if they think you’re an over-romanticized idiot?’
‘I think there are enough people in the world already who think I’m an idiot,’ I grumbled sulkily. ‘I don’t want you to play that stupid tape. Let them get married. I don’t care.’
‘Fine. I don’t care either.’
‘Fine.’
‘Fine.’
‘Oh God.’
Fran’s lip curled.
‘OK, play the damn thing. Can you tell them it’s not me?’
‘That’s right, it could be almost anyone of a million friends I had at that hen night. With a Woking accent.’
‘I’ve got it! Stop it immediately before that bit. Then you just hear the Amanda being a cow bit and nobody gets to hear my speech.’
Fran pulled the spare mattress from under my bed and put the tape recorder under the pillow.
‘But that would be no fun,’ she protested.
‘Hey, nobody said a detective’s life is easy, schweetheart.’
Alex and I met up the next day. He’d been out with some of his pseudo rock-star mates, and looked pretty wasted. I wanted to do some early Christmas shopping, but knew there wouldn’t be much point in suggesting it, so we were lazing around in Charlie’s house, nursing our hangovers.
I’d told him about the invites, and he’d offered to phone up and get me into the wedding if it meant that much to me, then I’d had to explain that that wasn’t the point, then he’d said, well, what was the problem then, and I’d looked at him like he was a moron and he’d shrugged his shoulders and said what did I want him to do, go read Men Are from Mars and Women Are from Venus? and I said no, forget it, I was having my period.
But I couldn’t stay in a strop, because I had to tell him about the night before – in a highly edited version of course, centring around the idea that I might have some ethical concerns about the whole business. He couldn’t believe we’d actually gone so far as to wire ourselves up, and thought it was pretty cool.
‘Shall we join the FBI when we grow up?’ I asked him dreamily.
‘Yes, I think so. Do you think they get a million morons a day asking to join their alien division?’
‘I don’t know. Let’s phone them up, ask to join, and measure how pissed off the person’s voice is. Those are the kind of forensic detective skills you need to join.’
Alex nodded sagely. ‘So what are you going to do with the tape?’
‘I don’t know. Fran thinks we should play it to Fraser. I’m not so sure.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well … it’s illegal, isn’t it?’
‘So, you think Fraser might report you to the police?’
‘No … although I couldn’t join the FBI with a record.’
‘Or without American citizenship. Come on, do you really think it’s criminal?’
‘No-o-o … I just think it was a bit embarrassing and I kind of wish we hadn’t done it now. I mean, what if Fraser just shrugs his shoulders and never talks to us again?’
‘Well, you know me, I don’t really give a shit about this wedding … or any wedding for that matter …’
Point taken.
‘… but if you think it’s such a horrendous idea, well, then don’t you want to stop it? Like you won’t let your friends drive drunk, will you?’
‘Oh God, not that damn crocodile again.’
‘What?’
‘Never mind. I do want to stop it. I just didn’t think I’d actually, you know, have to do hard things.’
‘That’s why people tell other people to mind their own business.’
‘I know.’
‘But if they insist on interfering, pumpkin … they should carry it through. Can I hear it?’
‘No.’
‘Why not? What does it say on it? Does Amanda renounce Fraser because she’s desperate for my body?’
‘You wish.’
Alex shrugged.
‘Really? Would you really wish?’
‘No, my darling, I prefer my women more … Rubenesque.’
‘Fuck off! I can’t believe it. If she walked in here naked right now and offered it to you, would you take it?’
‘Are you still here at this point?’
‘No. Say I don’t even exist.’
‘Well, maybe.’
‘Maybe?’
He grinned. ‘Well, you know …’
‘But she’s evil!’
‘So you say.’
‘You’ve seen her be evil!’
‘When?’
He was right. I couldn’t remember a single occasion. God, she hid it well in front of men.
‘You have the morals of a lobster,’ I grumbled.
‘Oh, come on. You asked.’
‘Yes, and you’re supposed to say “no”. Always. Even if it’s like a whole Helena Christensen/Naomi Campbell lesbian-type thing. You’re always supposed to say no, you’d prefer me.’
‘But you don’t exist.’
‘Yes, well, apart from that.’
Charlie wandered in. When he saw me, he looked slightly embarrassed. I didn’t say anything.
‘Hey,’ said Alex.
‘Hey,’ said Charlie. Then he took a deep breath.
‘Urm … Melanie.’
I looked up, surprised.
‘I’m terribly sorry about last week.’
‘Oh, I’d forgotten all about it,’ I lied.
‘Huh. Right-oh. Erm, how’s that friend of yours?’
‘Which one?’ I asked him deliberately.
‘Yas, you know, erm … Fran.’
I smiled, and decided to embellish it a bit. ‘Oh, she’s doing absolutely great! Ever since she started seeing Angus …’
‘She’s seeing Angus?’ cut in Alex abruptly. ‘Since when?’
‘Since that night, actually.’
Charlie looked utterly crestfallen. ‘Gosh, I rather buggered that up then.’
‘What?’ said Alex. ‘She had her tongue down that other guy’s throat when we left.’
‘Well, you know Fran. Always up for a bit of adventure.’
Charlie perked up a bit. ‘Really?’
‘Only with Scottish people though,’ I said sympathetically. His crest fell again and he turned and left the room.
‘Damn gorgeous totty,’ he muttered as he went.
Ooh, it was working.
I studied Alex. ‘You looked utterly dumbfounded that Fran might have a boyfriend.’
He made a hangdog face. ‘Not really. It’s just I’d never have put those two together. Mind you, they’re both pretty fierce.’
‘No they’re not!’ I said indignantly. ‘OK, Fran is pretty fierce. But Angus is a big pet. He’s really sweet.’
‘So, it won’t last long then. D’ya want tea?’ Alex went through to put the kettle on.
Actually, it’s already finished, I thought to myself, slightly embarrassed for having fibbed about something so pointless.
‘You told them WHAT!?’ said Fran.
‘I thought it would be funny. Wind Charlie up a bit.’
‘I decide when I want to wind Charlie up.’
‘Oh yeah, NEW RULE!’
‘Oh, forget it. You really have a big mouth, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, you mentioned that.’
Hurt and annoyed, I slumped back in my chair. We were in a greasy caff in North London waiting for Angus, who had been pestering us to know what had happened to the tape. I fiddled disconsolately with the grubby sauce bottle and drank my slightly suspect tea.
‘Angus!’ she said in a pleased tone as he popped into our booth, shaking the rain off like a dog.
‘Angus!’ I mimicked under my breath, then gave up and grinned at him. He grinned back and sat down opposite me and next to Fran, his heavy ribbed grey jumper taking up more than half his side. He pushed back his dark red hair.
‘Well?’ he said heartily.
<
br /> I looked at Fran. ‘Breakfast first!’ she said, and we trooped up and ordered bacon, sausage, mushrooms, tomatoes, beans, eggs, and white bread and butter, with a cholesterol seizure to follow.
‘I am honour bound to say,’ began Fran, once we were all tucking in, ‘Mel doesn’t want me to play this tape.’
‘Why not?’ said Angus, looking at me intently.
‘Well, you know, there was this big bunch of free champagne, and Amanda says lots of incriminating things, and I say, you know, lots of moronic things,’ I said quickly.
He smiled and his eyes went all crinkly. ‘Och, I never say anything stupid when I’m drunk.’
I smiled back. ‘Actually, normally I make trenchant political speeches about the European monetary system. I do not know what came over me on Friday.’
‘Must have been a bad pint … of champagne.’
‘OK, you two, have you got a sec?’
‘Yes,’ said Angus. ‘Bravery of the officer noted.’
Fran brought the recorder out. I cringed, and paid very close attention to my sausage. Angus watched me quizzically.
The mannered tones came across clearly:
‘You know, I’m only telling you this for your own good, but you can be incredibly naïve, Melanie. This … I mean, hell, it’s a great excuse to have a party, but it’s also a bloody practical affair. That castle needs sorting out, and Daddy’s happy to put up the loot to do it with.’
Angus’s face went red. ‘Bloody cow,’ he said vehemently.
‘Don’t you love him?’ That was me, and I winced.
‘He’s a nice chap. It’s a good situation. It’ll be a fabulous wedding.’
She went on to talk about Fraser being all right, and someone who would have no objections to her living her life.
‘Does Fraser think that?’ I whispered to Angus.
‘Of course he fucking doesn’t.’ His fried egg was all but forgotten.
Here came my big set speech.
‘I don’t care,’ I heard myself howl petulantly. ‘I do believe in all that crap.’ On and on and on. ‘So, I think you lose!’ My voice cracked at this bit, as I got ready for stomping off. My entire body cringed.
Fran switched the tape off after that.
‘Thanks,’ I grimaced at her. ‘You could have switched it off before.’
‘Could I?’
Then we just sat there in silence for a bit. Angus looked cross. ‘He’s so stupid,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe he’s a year older than me but so completely stupid.’ Then he looked at me across the grimy table.
‘Do you really think all that stuff you said?’ he asked suddenly.
I shrugged. ‘Maybe. I’m sorry about the castle bit.’
‘Well, I don’t think it’s embarrassing at all. And the castle is complete crap. I think you were quite right,’ he said. ‘And so does Fraser. That’s why we’ve got to stop him getting into this mess.’
‘Are you going to play it to him?’ asked Fran.
Angus heaved a sigh.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Gus!’ I implored him. ‘After what I went through?’
‘Oh yes, I only did the taping and wore the wire and sorted it all out and switched it on and off inconspicuously,’ huffed Fran.
Angus looked at the remains of his breakfast. ‘Oh God, it’s just so embarrassing. And so wrong.’
We nodded our heads.
‘But I suppose I have to.’
We nodded our heads again.
Fran got up to refill her coffee cup.
‘Mel,’ Angus whispered urgently, ‘would you … would you come with me when I play the tape?’
I was touched.
‘Well, yeah … Why did you ask me?’
‘Ehm … in case it gets a bit messy and he tries to punch me or something. And you and Fran are the only women I know down here.’
‘Oh, right. Why don’t you ask her?’
‘I will if you like. But you know Fraser and … and, well, I’d rather have you.’
‘Cool. OK.’
‘OK what?’ said Fran, rejoining us.
‘OK, that is definitely the best way to lift scum off a cup of tea,’ I said, picking up my cup.
‘Fascinating,’ said Fran. ‘Do you know, I think you two are made for each other.’
We had to pick a night Amanda would be out. Fortunately, that was every night, so it wasn’t too difficult. She’d moved Fraser into her little pied-à-terre, after complaining too vehemently about his shared boy-tip in Finsbury Park and the copies of FHM left wrinkled up by the toilet for use in emergencies. They were only there temporarily: her father was scouring London for a large townhouse suitable for his noble offspring.
Where they lived at the moment turned out to be a small but immaculate apartment in a mansion block in St John’s Wood, next to Regent’s Park. Angus and I met up beforehand, to plan, and for moral support. The November wind was freezing as we walked across the park. Angus betrayed his nerves by constantly kicking leaves out of the way.
‘Right,’ said Angus, ‘how are we going to do this?’
‘Have you got the tape?’
‘OK, let’s start a little later than that bit.’
‘Ehm … really, I think we should just go in and not be nice at all. Just push past him with stern faces and say, “Look Fraser, there’s something we have to tell you.’”
‘In a deep American voice?’
‘Yeah.’
I wrapped my arms around me.
‘Are you cold?’
‘Nervous. And cold.’
He clapped his arm round me briefly, which did the trick, as I blushed incredibly red and got warm almost immediately.
‘We’re nearly there.’
‘We have to be brutal about this, Gus. We’ve got to walk in, just tell him, put the tape on and get out of there. He’ll forgive you in – oh, four or five years.’
Angus didn’t say anything.
‘What? Are you wishing you had brought Fran after all?’
‘No … I was just thinking.’
‘What?’
He looked around.
‘That it’s a nice night for a walk. It feels such a shame that we’re going to, well, you know …’
‘Do a nasty thing.’
‘Yes.’
We walked on.
‘Actually, it’s a freezing cold and miserable night for a walk,’ I said.
‘Yes. I suppose it is.’
‘Shall we go and do a nasty thing then?’
‘Yeah, all right.’
My mysterious and stone-faced FBI persona lasted about ten seconds after Fraser answered the door.
‘Hi! Come in, great to see you! Hello, Mel dear.’ He kissed me on the cheek. Every time I saw him, I remembered how lovely he was.
This was not going to be easy.
‘Did you survive the hen night all right? ‘manda told me it was amazing.’
‘Yeah, yeah, it was.’
‘Hello, Gustard.’ He playfully punched Angus on the stomach. Angus was doing better than me, and gave a quiet half-smile.
‘Come in, come in. What do you want? Beer, wine …?’
He split off into the kitchen and we trooped into the tiny but tasteful living room. The carpet and the sofas were white, which made me extremely nervous. There was a leopardskin bean bag in the corner and some expensive-looking candlesticks dotted around. Fraser had put out little bowls of peanuts and crisps, obviously in anticipation of our visit. They gazed at me pitifully, so I ate a few for luck.
‘Amanda doesn’t like people coming round usually – she worries about the carpet,’ said Fraser, emerging from the kitchen with three glasses and an open bottle of red wine. I gulped.
‘Really? Where is she tonight then?’ I asked.
Angus shot me a dirty look and I realized this was not the time for small talk.
Fraser motioned for us to sit down and make ourselves comfortable. The sofa was squashier than it looked and,
as I sank into it, a dribble from the wine glass made its way over the side. Fortunately, it dropped on to my trousers. Angus stayed standing up.
‘Oh, God knows. She’s always disappearing to some do or other.’ He laughed. ‘I can’t keep up.’
‘Don’t you go?’
‘No chance. Totally BORING.’
I nodded, and took some more crisps. ‘Actually, the hen night …’
Angus cleared his throat overdramatically and we both looked up at him. He pulled the tape recorder out and sat down next to me. I covered my glass with my hand.
‘Fraser,’ he said seriously, ‘Melanie and I …’
Fraser smiled at the sombreness of the tone, but leaned forward to hear.
‘We have something to say to you about your wedding.’
We did? I didn’t remember agreeing this.
‘Well, really, I’m more here for moral support …’ I said.
Angus ignored me, continuing: ‘Fraser, Ah hate to have to tell you this, but … Ah don’t think you should marry Amanda.’
Fraser sighed and gulped his wine. ‘I don’t believe it. I mean, you have actually told me that before. In fact, nearly every day since I met her. Please don’t say that’s what you came here for. God, and I thought you were coming round to visit me.’
‘Aye, well. And Mel agrees with me.’
Fraser looked at me, wounded.
‘But I thought …’
I gazed back at his stricken face, feeling horribly guilty and embarrassed.
Angus ploughed on regardless: ‘And we’ve got some proof … I’m sorry.’ He put the tape recorder down on the table. One of the wrought-iron candlesticks fell over.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Fraser. ‘Are you forming some Moonie-type cult which aims to outlaw marriage for brothers?’
‘No.’
‘Then why the fuck don’t you just keep your nose out of it?’
‘Because your ma brother, for fuck’s sake.’
‘What’s on that tape?’
‘Melanie talked to her. She doesn’t love you, you idiot. She just wants to have some kind of title and swank about and get in Hello! magazine and have posh people for friends because she’s actually a completely shallow cow.’
Fraser looked at the tape as if it was a snake.
‘Is that what she says?’ he asked me.
‘Not exactly,’ I whispered. My voice sounded shaky. I felt absolutely terrible.
